The Cygnus Game
by JP Colter
Summary: Think trouble in the Hamptons is over? Guess again. When Emily is attacked by a mysterious mercenary, new players are revealed to be in town. Their targets are Hampton's elites. Meanwhile, Oliver Queen comes from Starling City on the hunt for an assassin known as Darwin. When he runs into Emily's world, the past and future become at odds with one another. RATED M FOR CONTENT.
1. The Worthy and the Meek

The Cygnus Game

By: JP Colter

_Disclaimer: The author does not claim ownership to content related to the TV series, "Revenge" and "Arrow." Both shows are property of ABC and the CW, respectively, and are contingent to their copyrights. However, original characters not based upon either of these shows are under the ownership of the author._

[CHAPTER I: THE WORTHY AND THE MEEK]

Ben Hunter. How should she handle him? Emily sat in the living area of her lavish manor, drinking a glass of wine at 2pm in the afternoon. The sun was radiant, lighting up the room in a majesty unfolded. It was a nice quiet day for quaint leisure. Instead of that, she was pondering about the policeman she recently shacked up with.

When she approached his house, she honestly had no idea what she was doing. All she knew is she was looking for a fresh start. A new beginning would begin with him. The moment his face lit up when he answered the door and saw her, she was at loss of what to do next. Before she could have a bit of tact, she threw subtly to the wind and evidently herself at him. How odd for a calculating mind such as hers. Maybe that was all she wanted: some steamy, hot night of passion. Ever since Aiden died by Victoria's hand, she was never intimate with another man. It had been so long since she just let a man satisfy her carnal needs.

Emily smiled as she remembered the duality of Ben's tenderness and rock hard strength. He was truly a lawful man, ensuring he was gentle with his kisses and touch but firm with his chiseled body. Their naked bodies complimented one another in ways that she did not expect. Ben's broad frame felt just right around her slender form.

Was that the right way to start off their potential relationship? Emily sipped her wine again as she thought about what it actually meant. She knew that they knew each other for a while, and they did go on that first date when she was trying tofind out information from him. But was that the sensible way to start the fire? It _is_ the millenial era. People jumped right into the sex all the time. Just look at Jack and his tryst with Kate, Malcolm Black's now deceased daughter.

Emily was not like other people though. It was not common for someone to trade identities with another woman, train with a Japanese martial artist, learn skills to dismantle someone's life from behind the curtain, and do battle with a global network of terrorists known as the Initiative. The path to revenge had transformed her into a cautious person who did not risk thinking like everyone else. So why did she take the fast lane with Ben?

Perhaps it was because she decided to do away with old habits. She was no longer motivated by revenge. Her father, David Clarke, by some miraculous error on Conrad Grayson's part, was given a second chance to be in her life. She only devoted revenge to him, just as her father did for her. Now, they were bonding, making up for the years that they had missed together. Therefore, even though she had asked her father to not expect her to resume her old identity of Amanda Clarke, she can forge her identity as Emily Thorne beyond the life of revenge. Ben understood the part of her about assuming an identity that was not innate, with his experience working undercover. Now, he could appreciate her forthcoming goal to create a life after clearing her father's name.

She was no longer in pursuit of revenge, but she still had Margaux LeMarchal to worry about. She had hoped that by making it clear that she still held critical information about Margaux's father, Pascal LeMarchal, in check, Margaux would consider not revealing Emily's identity as Amanda Clarke. However, as in all things involving revenge, she expected the unexpected. She had to be on guard, but with Ben into the fold, perhaps he can prove a valuable ally.

After the night of their sexual liaison, Ben told Emily that he did not expect her to commit to a relationship immediately. He encouraged that they both take it one step at a time. Such a sweet man. But, maybe that's what was needed in her life: companionship. As much as she loved Jack, her father, Nolan, Ben provided something that they could not. Aiden was gone. There was no longer that plan to escape from the world on the islands. So now, Emily had the opportunity to be a part of it, alongside someone who could have the patience with her adapting to it.

Her cell phone rang. It was Ben. Was he thinking about her as well? Giggling to herself like some schoolgirl, Emily answered. "Hello?"

"Hey. Emily." Ben said unevenly. There seemed to be a hint of nervousness in his voice. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well, Detective Hunter," Emily responded coyly, caressing the cusp of her wine glass. "How are you faring in your first week in your new role?" Ben was promoted to Detective about a month back by Chief Alvarez, but upon his assassination by Malcolm Black, he was not officially handed his detective badge until last week. After an intense week of training, he was finally in the field in a shirt and tie, solving crimes at the helm rather than on the sidelines.

"I don't know, I'm still getting used to not wearing the uniform," Ben chuckled. "I think it was easier getting up every morning and knowing you're going to wear a government issued uniform. Now, it takes me a while to decide what to wear. My partner says my shirts and ties do not coordinate. I may need your fashion advice."

"Well, you are certainly welcome to it," Emily assured him. "A detective with color coordination is something a girl can get used to seeing frequently."

"I'm glad to hear that," Ben said. "What are you doing right now? I'm about to take a late lunch. Can you accompany me?"

"Why don't you come over to the manor?" Emily asked, not feeling up for going out in public at the moment. "I'll make some delicious gourmet sandwiches, some truffle fries, and a salad bowl for two. Sound good?"

"That sounds amazing," Ben answered. "I can be there in thirty minutes."

"Awesome. Just let yourself in when you arrive."

After getting off the phone with Ben, Emily finished her glass of wine and went over to the kitchen. Along the way, she disarmed the manor's alarm so her visitor can open the front door without setting it off. She immediately set to work, gathering the necessary equipment from the cabinets and food from the fridge and pantry. She started with the truffle fries, firing up a frying pan with olive oil. She tossed in some precut fries in the pan to let them fry while she prepared the salad. Using lettuce and spinach supplied by manor's gardens, she created a bowl of tossed salad topped with shredded mozzarella and parmesan cheeses and chopped cherry tomatoes. She lightly sprinkled some garlic croutons on top.

When she was done with the salad, she returned to the fries and laid them on a shallow plate covered with a napkin to drain. While that was in process, she began to put together their sandwiches, creating two hoagies with peppered roast beef, sliced provolone, chopped bell peppers, and some strands of cilantro. She placed each sandwich on a serving plate then turned her attention back to the fries. She dumped the fries into a mixing bowl and tossed them in truffle sauce. She then divided the fries equally between the two plates and took them to the dining table along with the salad bowl.

After making sure everything was set up neatly, she glanced at her watch. It had been forty minutes since Ben had called. He should arrive any minute. All that was left to do was to wait for his beaming smile to come through the door.

"That smells delightful," a voice suddenly said from behind. Emily whirled around and saw a man dressed in a dark grey tactical outfit standing there with his arms behind his back. He seemed to be in his thirties. His muscles ripped from underneath his broadcloth shirt. His jet black hair and neatly trimmed goatee complimented the balefulness emanating from his smile and brown eyes. "I'll have some to go."

"Who are you?" Emily inquired sternly.

"It does not matter," the man shrugged. "My objective is to take you to my boss. How that occurs is completely up to you."

"Who's your boss? Malcolm Black?" Emily demanded, taking her guarded stance.

"That common bandit?" the man scoffed. "No, I work for someone with a higher pedigree than Black. You'll see very soon what I mean. Let's get this over with before your lunch date arrives."

"Yes, let's!" Emily said defiantly.

She made the preemptive strike, charging at him with a punch. The man quickly dodged her blow. She deflected an incoming kick and followed up with one of her own, causing him to stumble back a bit to avoid getting hit in the head. He laughed in amusement and approached her again. Emily jabbed at him, initiating an exchange of blocks and attempted blows. The man was very skilled, easily countering every move she made. He moved fast and fluid, forcing Emily to use her upmost concentration to keep up with him.

Suddenly, the man managed to pen her in a full nelson. "Heh, a rich socialite who knows how to fight! I like you already. It's about time I had some fun."

Emily struggled to escape the grapple. She elbowed him in the ribs and lurched forward to put some distance between them. The assailant kicked her in the back, knocking her down to the floor. He got on top of her and attempted to subdue her, but she was quick and turned over, thrusting her palm into his nose. The stunning hit gave her the chance to slip away and run toward the courtyard. The man was right behind her, cackling with delight.

Before she reached the doors, there was a gunshot. Instinctively, she crouched down to the floor. She looked back and saw the man lowered behind a lounge chair. She looked over in the opposite direction and saw Ben standing there with his gun at hand. "Emily!" Ben exclaimed. "Stay down!" He trained his gun toward the man and shot his gun repeatedly. The bullets piercing the chair forced the man to roll out of hiding. In a quick move, he grabbed the nearby décor porcelain lamp and expertly hurled it at Ben. The detective reflexively shielded his face with his arm. The lamp shattered upon impact, knocking Ben down onto his back, disorienting him. His gun fell from his grip a few feet away.

The man went to Ben's location quickly. He grabbed the gun and dismantled it before Ben could recover. The detective groaned and saw the pieces of his gun tossed aside. He made to stand back up, but he was swiftly kicked in the stomach. He cried out in pain as he lurched forward, placing him in the vulnerable position to the man. The man grabbed him by the throat, poised to thrust a switchblade in his jugular.

Emily intervened and quickly disengaged the man from Ben. In the process, she was cut on the shoulder with the blade before she managed to disarm their attacker. That momentary bout of pain was all the grey clothed man needed to take her by surprise and tackle her to the floor. Ben was still reeling from the pain in his stomach, unable to act to support her. The man overpowered Emily's struggles, subduing her successfully this time. "It's time for a nap, your highness." The man said. He turned her over and grappled her into submission, using a technique to immediately render her unconscious.

The man got up and slung Emily over his right shoulder. He turned to Ben, who was on his knees, and flung a small dart into the detective's neck. "In fifteen seconds, you'll be unconscious for twenty minutes. When you wake up, I highly advise you to keep this between us. You don't want anything to happen to this precious woman would you?" He winked at him and headed for the front door. Ben groaned and reached out in desperation, calling out Emily's name before succumbing to the darkness.

* * *

"Oh my god, Ollie! That guy is abducting that woman!"

Oliver Queen observed the events unfolding in the immaculate manor through binoculars. In the circular drive way in front of the manor, a man in a dark grey tactical hoisted an unconscious blonde woman in the trunk of a black car, tying her up before closing the trunk door. His little sister, Thea Queen, was beside him with binoculars as well. The black car drove past a midnight blue Escalade and ventured away from the manor.

"We should help her, Oliver!" Thea pleaded, putting down her binoculars.

"I know, Thea," Oliver responded, frustrated. "But, we can't. This may be a trap. That man is not Darwin, but we tracked Darwin here. I can't see him anywhere. He may have initiated the abduction to distract us. We need to be alert in case he decides to ambush us."

"What about the guy?" Thea inquired.

"He'll be fine," Oliver said. "It was a tranquilizer. I've seen it used by A.R.G.U.S. He'll be awake in about fifteen minutes. He's a detective, though. We cannot approach him."

"How do you know?" Thea questioned, confused.

"He dresses like Captain Lance," Oliver stated. "We need to avoid law enforcement as much as possible. Our presence need to be low key here. We –."

Suddenly, a slender dagger grazed between the two of them and impaled the tree behind them. Oliver and Thea both looked at the silver-hilted blade. Oliver looked back toward the manor and notched an arrow to his bow, ready to fire if something came their way. But, no movement occurred. Just the faint clashing of the waves against the beach from afar.

"Darwin knows we're here. We need to go." Oliver instructed. Cautiously, they made their way from the scene.


	2. Starlings in the Hamptons

_Author's Note: I forgot the name of the club Nolan owns now. For now, I'll label it as _The Mariner s Club,_ and will correct it when I am able to find the correct information._

[CHAPTER II: STARLINGS IN THE HAMPTONS]

Oliver and Thea had returned to their suite at the Southfork Inn. Thankfully, they were not tailed by anyone suspicious. They had expected Darwin to pursue them. Oliver could not hold back his relief when they pulled up to the Inn without any confrontation. He worried for Thea's safety. Her accompanying him to New York was not part of the original plan. After their training in Lianyu, the island where Oliver had spent five years before returning home to Starling City, Thea and he met Malcolm Merlyn in Tokyo. There, they were able to build up their sword techniques to counter Ra's al Ghul's deadly skills. Their time there was interrupted when Darwin stormed the dojo they were training in and attempted to kill Malcolm.

The assassin, whose codename was "Darwin", after the founder of natural selection, had a lethality Oliver had not encountered before. Even Malcolm could not match his skills. His first instinct was to defend his sister, but Darwin had no interest in her, or him for that matter. Darwin's sole focus was Malcolm, who was shocked by his sudden appearance. When Oliver made the decision to go to Malcolm's aid, he experienced firsthand Darwin's uncanny reflexes and abilities. Every time Oliver got close to him, the assassin would evade his blows and grabs and maneuvered Oliver aside so he could return his attention to his primary target. Eventually, Darwin had Malcolm exactly where he wanted, poised to deliver the killing strike. It was luck that saved Malcolm. Thea had retrieved Oliver's bow and shot one of his stunning arrows at her father's attacker. Amazingly, the assassin caught the arrow, but the mechanism activated and delivered a small blast that knocked him back. This stroke of luck forced Darwin to retreat, disoriented.

As it turned out, Darwin was a lone enemy of the League of Assassins. Malcolm told them that Darwin had infiltrated the League four years ago, posing as a lost young adult in need of a reformation. Ra's al Ghul, seeing potential in the boy, recruited him. The name Darwin was using at the time was Derek Bolin, a fake American identity he had created. Within weeks of being in the League, Darwin had killed three officers. The work was surgical and discrete. If it had not been for his mistake in his fourth hit, the League would have never discovered his betrayal. Darwin was caught when he misjudged the security cycle in the League's prison wing. Before he could be contained, he escaped the League's premises and successfully exited Nanda Parbat's borders without delay. Apparently, he was assisted by another person, but the League did not discover who.

At first, Oliver doubted Malcolm's tale. Darwin only seemed in his early twenties, younger than most enemies he had encountered. How could Ra's al Ghul be fooled by some mere boy? But then he remembered Sara, all the things that she had been through on Lianyu with him, and how she ended up in the clutches of Ra's. Perhaps Darwin suffered a similar fate, having to face hostile conditions from a young age. Just as Sara had turned into the Black Canary, so did Derek Bolin, or whoever he was, turn into the man known as Darwin.

Unfortunately, Malcolm did not know who Darwin allied himself with, or who he was working for. All Ra's al Ghul could discover about him was that Derek Bolin, the identity, was generated by a hacker in Blacksburg, Virginia. It was only when Ra's tracked him down in Russia that he was discovered to be an assassin operating under the codename Darwin. His real name was untraceable.

Oliver, by suggestion of Malcolm, was tracking down Darwin to find out what he knew about the League and Ra's al Ghul. He was the only living person to do what he had done and still be alive. He could be a potential resource and ally. With the help of Felicity, Darwin was flagged in an inbound flight to New York. He planned to intercept him in the city. He did not expect Thea to tag along. Despite his reservations about having his sister join him on a risky mission, Thea made a good point that they needed to work together more as a team. Since Malcolm was viewed inimically by Darwin, a different Merlyn should accompany Oliver, just in case the assassin needed something to compel him to work with them. Her clever idea, not his.

"So, what's next?" Thea asked, plopping down to the couch in their common area.

"We wait," Oliver told her. "The ball is in Darwin's court right now. He could have cornered us today, but he has chosen not to. I believe he was just saying hello to us at the mansion we tracked him to. When he resurfaces, he will let us know, one way or another."

"He wants to be found?" Thea said quizzically. "Very strange for a killer."

"Not at all," Oliver countered, pouring them two glasses of sparkling water. "Assassins like Darwin exercise a huge degree of control over their lives. When they encounter variables like you and me, they would often manipulate the situation to where it will suit their advantage. He's not after us, but he's after something here in this city. When he discovered our presence at the mansion, he initiated a calling card. Throwing that dagger at us, intentionally missing, without showing himself, was him saying, 'Hey, wait and see what I do next.' He knows we want to meet with him, but it will ultimately be on his terms."

"So, we're just going to sit around until he feels like talking?" Thea said with a hint of incredulity.

Oliver grinned at her sardonicism and handed her a glass of water. "That would be correct. We can't make a move until he moves a piece on the chessboard."

"Very reactive of you, Ollie," Thea spoke, feigning poignancy. "But, don't you think it would be more productive to do something while we're waiting for this D-bag to holler at us?"

"What do you mean?" Oliver queried.

"How about not focusing on what we can't control and focusing on what we can," Thea stated sumptuously. "Darwin may control his interactions with us, but we control what we do outside that interaction. For starters, we should do something about that woman who was abducted from her glamorous home. The Arrow would not let something like that slide by in Starling City. It should be the same here."

Oliver paused for a moment to think. Then it dawned on him the genius of his little sister. "Thea, you're more clever than I give you credit for. Either the abductor or the abductee was Darwin's target. He would not have bothered to be at that mansion otherwise. If we find either of them, we're bound to cross paths with Darwin anyway. It may be intentional on his part, but you're right: we need to help that woman. A vigilante has no boundaries. We just need to find out who they are."

Thea's face gleamed with an idea. "I don't know about the abductor, but there's one place where we may find information on the woman. She comes from substantial wealth. Where do the one-percenters like to hang out?"

"We're in the Hamptons. Everyone is a one-percenter here," Oliver pointed out.

"Oh Ollie, if you had actually acted as the owner of Verdant, you would know that information tends to slip past lips at exclusive places with premium alcohol."

With that, a plan blossomed in sight.

* * *

Ben sat at Emily's dining table, staring vacantly at the cold food that Emily had prepared two hours before. Ever since he had woken up from the effects of the tranquilizer, the detective had been emotionally punishing himself for failing to defend his romantic interest. He was a _detective_ for Christ sakes! It was his duty to protect the people. Now, he felt he had failed both as a detective and as a boyfriend. He was supposed to have a lunch with her, but ended up with an empty table and uneaten food.

He knew that a relationship with Emily would be unconventional. Knowing that she was actually Amanda Clarke, daughter of David Clarke, and the vast web of plots she was involved in, Ben knew that Emily Thorne's life was complicated to say the least. Despite all the deceits, discord, and blemishes, he wanted be the man to be there for her. He knew from the first time he met her that she was a rare beauty, and he wanted her to be his.

A replay of the events earlier today kept racing through his mind. When he had arrived to the manor, he let himself in as Emily instructed. He immediately heard the commotion going on inside. He instinctively withdrew his pistol and held it at ready, advancing into the foyer. Then, he saw Emily run toward the doors to the courtyard in the living room. He quickly rushed after her and saw the bulky man in the grey tactical in pursuit. The man noticed him before he could fire a shot, ducking behind one of the lounge chairs. At least he was able to stall him. He checked to make sure Emily was okay, told her to stay at her location, and discharged multiple shots into the lounge chair, hoping to hit the intruder. The intruder was too fast, managing to barrel to the side and toss a porcelain lamp at him. Before he knew it, he was on the floor, disarmed and dazed.

The rest was history. The intruder had bested him. He had no idea why he was still alive. The intruder was about to kill him with the switchblade before Emily interfered. Why did he not kill him after managing to knock her out? Regardless, Ben was grateful to be alive, but now he had all sorts of questions. Was the intruder an associate of the deceased Malcolm Black? Was he a part of the Grayson conspiracy, looking to settle loose ends with David and Amanda Clarke? So much was unknown. He could not even begin to fathom the possibilities as to why the intruder kidnapped Emily. He only hoped that the intruder showed her the same mercy as he had shown him. He hoped Emily was safe and alive.

After he had awakened from the tranquilizer's effects, Ben resumed being a detective and searched the place for clues. He searched for anything that the intruder may have left behind. He first inspected his dismantled gun, hoping for some visible fingerprint he could lift. All he could find was a botched partial, which was probably useless. He then checked for the bullets he discharged for blood from a possible graze. No luck there as well. Frustrated, he walked through the vast manor, looking for signs where the intruder may have entered. No signs of forced entry was detected. No items were disturbed. The intruder was solely after Emily.

"Hello?" A voice called from the front door.

Ben snapped out of his reverie. "In here, Porter!"

Jack Porter, Ben's former partner in the police force, hurried to the dining room. "Hey, I came here as soon as I got your message. What's going on? What's so urgent?" He noticed the untouched food and unopened bottle of sparkling cider on the dining table. "Where's Emily?"

Ben looked up at Jack with immense guilt. "She was kidnapped by a man. I was meeting her here for some lunch, and when I got here, Emily was in an altercation with some brute. I tried to intervene, but the assailant got the best of me. Knocked me out with a damn tranquilizer. I can't find a god damn clue how he got in. I have to assume he went through the front door, because Emily instructed me to let myself in when I got here." His anger and self-loathing was building, each word he spoke getting more and more heated.

Jack hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey, don't blame yourself, Ben. It sounds like it was an ambush. Did you report this?"

"No. Before I went out, the intruder made it clear that if I went to anyone, Emily would pay the price. I only called you, because you're someone I can trust. Someone who knows her situation better than I do. I know you quit the police force, but can you help me?" Ben sighed and put his face in his hands.

"Of course," Jack said. "Emily is important to me as well." He thought for a moment, pondering ideas. "Hey, did you check the security system?"

"I have no idea where it is," Ben replied, looking up with a spark of hope. "Do you think it's still active? She must have disarmed it before I got here."

"The physical security may have been disarmed, but I know Nolan installed cc video throughout this place. Come on, let's check it out."

Jack led Ben to the second floor to the location of the security system screen. He touched the window, causing the screen to light up instantly. Scanning the screen with haste, he clapped, "Yes! The surveillance system is still up and running." Ben exhaled with relief. Jack pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "I'm going to call Nolan and see if he can come check out the footage. Maybe he can derive the intruder's identity from it."

"Oh, thank God," Ben breathed heavily, his heart pounding with excitement and anxiousness at the same time.

Jack's call reached Nolan's voicemail. He immediately hung up. "He's probably at his new club right now. Let's head over there and catch him before it gets too busy."

They quickly made their way down to the driveway. Ben's phone rang. He glanced at it and groaned. "Oh shit, it's my partner." He answered. "Hunter. Yes. Uh huh. I'll be there shortly. Thanks." He hung up and put the phone in his shirt pocket. "There's a lead on a case that we're working on today. You'll have to talk to your friend without me. Are you sure he won't say anything?"

"I'm sure. Nolan is the master of keeping secrets. I'll call you when I have more information."

With that, they parted ways.

* * *

Oliver and Thea entered the Mariner's Club. The upscale exclusive leisure club contained a decent crowd of bankers, entrepreneurs, and other executives who mattered. They both navigated the place for an optimal place to sit. Most people were sitting at the tables with friends or with their networks. They needed a spot that would provide ample opportunities to strike up conversations with the locale.

They mutually decided the bar was a good place to start. They took their seats beside a demure woman in a bustling white dress. She looked up and gave them a charming smile, then returned to her newspaper. One of the headlines described a Congress candidate's campaign fund troubles. "This feels like old times," Thea commented to Oliver. "Remember Dad's work functions? He would drag us with him to show what a family man he was."

Oliver remembered those times distantly. Being in the Hamptons was a reminder of an old life he no longer lived. He shared that old life primarily with his father and his best friend, Tommy Merlyn. He used to be a playboy with a billion dollar trustfund. The suits, the parties, the social immersion, all of it was no longer a part of him. It was enlightening to see how far he had come.

Prior to arriving to this club, Thea and he stopped by other exclusive locations throughout the Hamptons. They were able to learn bits and pieces about the woman who lived in the mansion on the waterfront. Her name was Emily Thorne. Her residence used to belong to the Grayson family, a former powerhouse name in the Hamptons. Lots of unconfirmed rumors were about town concerning how she obtained possession of it. What Oliver was able to discern for sure, with the help of Thea's lightning phone skills, was that Emily married into the Grayson family by way of Daniel Grayson, only to have went through a scandalous divorce involving a feigned pregnancy. She was kicked out of the Grayson manor, living at the beach house down the shore from it. When the Grayson empire was crumbling due to the scandal with Conrad Grayson, the Grayson fortune and company plummeted dramatically. With the mysterious disappearance of Victoria Grayson, and her two children no longer living in the manor, the property came under ownership of Emily Thorne.

Apparently Emily Thorne was a socialite in the area, hosting parties on her extravagant estate. The Hamptons sure loved to talk about the parties that went on in the Grayson manor. Never a dull moment to be had. Oliver wanted to know who Emily Thorne's enemies were, but no one seemed to dislike her, at least not to the extent to want to do her harm. However, they were able to find out names of people who she was friends with. She recently hosted a reception for her friend Nolan Ross, former CEO of NolCorp, and his spouse, Louise. This piqued Oliver's interest, for he figured that this Nolan would be an extremely close friend to Emily Thorne. Thea was able to find out that he owned the Mariner's Club.

"Whoa!" A man in a navy two piece suit said ecstatically, coming up behind them. "Oliver Queen, right?"

Oliver winced from hearing his name, but had to engage in the pleasantries. He turned to face the man and smiled. "That would be me. And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Blake Trudeau," the man responded with enthusiasm, shaking his hand vigorously. "I did some work for your father, may he rest in peace! What brings you here from Starling City?"

"Pleasure mostly, as you can see," Oliver said, indicating the beverage in his hand. "Mr. Trudeau, this is my little sister, Thea. She's accompanying me, learning more about the club business. She's currently running the club I opened."

"Well, color me amazed!" Trudeau squealed with delight. "I remember when you two were small! Now look at you! Two fine looking adults! Well, enjoy yourselves in the Hamptons! Maybe I'll come visit you in Starling." He patted Oliver on the shoulder before he departed.

Oliver and Thea exchanged quizzical looks before returning their attention to the bar at hand. The woman in the white dress looked up from her newspaper and inspected them closely. "I'm sorry, I could not help but overhear. You're from Starling City? Where 493 people were killed in a bombing?"

Oliver and Thea nodded, unsure of how to respond. The undertaking was a sore subject to talk about. The woman took their initial silence critically. "Oh I'm sorry, where are my manners? My daddy taught me better. I'm Louise Ellis. I mean, Louise Ross. I'm married now. Pleasure to meet you two, Oliver and Thea."

Oliver and Thea perked up at hearing her name. Louise Ross, wife of Nolan Ross. Oliver sat on the other side of Louise and smiled his most charming smile. "Pleasure to meet you too, Louise. I hear a lot of great things about your husband. His entrepreneurship as the CEO of a tech company is nothing short of groundbreaking. Thea and I were hoping to be able to meet him while we're here in the area. Is it possible you could put in a good word for us?"

"Oh, I'm sure Nolan would love to meet you," Louise assured them. "He is supposed to meet me here soon. Why don't you stick around with me for a spell, tell me about yourselves."

Oliver and Thea ordered another round of drinks, not taking for granted this godsend opportunity.

* * *

Nolan wrapped up his tech work for the day and glanced at the clock on his wall. He had to see his darling wife at the club very soon. He closed his laptop and made sure everything at his place was in order. He checked his phone and saw a missed call from Jack. No voicemail. Must have been a casual call. He put it in his pocket and made his way to his front door. When he opened it, an unexpected redhead surprised him.

"Hello, Nolan," the man said with a dapper smile, his arms folded in front of him. Nolan gasped and backed away, not believing who he saw. The suave honey brown eyes. The blushed pink face. Where there once was average toned frame, there was a muscled physique. It wasn't the redhead he was about to see. It was Tyler Barrol, the man who was supposedly killed by Lee Moran. Tyler was alive. Phased by shock, Nolan did not move when Tyler entered his home on his own accord. "Long time no see." Tyler smiled that trademark grin and shut the door behind him.


	3. The Barrol Role

[CHAPTER III: THE BARROL ROLE]

Nolan dashed into the living in a desperate frantic to escape Tyler's presence. He feared for his safety. He remembered what Tyler had done to him, his ego, and his friends. He was in the grasp of a madman. Seeking a formidable defense, he saw some golf clubs by the poolside door. They were hardly used, but now would be a good chance to test their mettle. He practically leaped to them, snatching the longest one of the litter. He turned and raised it fiercely. Tyler just stood there, bemused by his eccentricity.

"Do you want to make an ace in a hole, Nolan?" Tyler chuckled, approaching him confidently. "Just like old times?"

"You, stay away from me, you damn psycho!" Nolan commanded skittishly.

When Tyler failed to adhere to his wishes, he swung the golf club with all of his might. Tyler caught the metallic shaft with ease with one hand then swiftly revoked the weapon from Nolan s grip with the other. The tech whiz gasped when he found the hood of the club against his face before he could react.

"That was very cute," Tyler commended, tauntingly rubbing the club on his face. "I'm not here to harm you, old friend. I'm here to talk." He suggestively slid the golf hood down along his neck to his chest. He nudged him toward the couch. "Sit. The sooner you listen to me, the sooner I'll out of your hair."

Nolan obeyed and sat down on his sofa. Tyler dropped the club to floor and sat across from him in a lounge chair. "H-How are you even alive?" Nolan questioned, unable to hold back the burning query in his mind. "We all saw your body. You were shot three times!"

"Quite a spectacle, wasn't it?" Tyler winked. "Poor Danny, he had to put a bullet in my chest. How ironic it is that he had to die by the bullet too." He smirked and briefly reminisced about his former college friend. "To answer your question, I'm alive thanks to a very meticulously devised plan by someone whom I'm working with. I'll start from the beginning. You may want to pour yourself a drink for this." He gestured toward the crystalline bottle of scotch on the coffee table. When Nolan did not move, Tyler did it for him, filling up the empty glass beside the bottle.

"Now, when I first came here, I was known as Danny's best friend and roommate from Harvard, right? Then, you had to go poking your nose where it didn t belong. You found out about my family, how they went bankrupt, and how I was servicing a desperate man named Leslie Montgomery." Tyler leaned back into the chair, making himself comfortable. "Raise your glass to that, Nolan. You were very slick. Except you missed a big piece of the puzzle. It's a very large puzzle, I might add. True, I was hustling and managed to land a jackpot john, who paid my way into Harvard, and _then_ some. But, all that was just a stroke of destiny. It was a preliminary set up to a much larger picture.

"You see, I wouldn't have been here if it weren't for being assigned as Danny's roommate. The day I met Danny, my life became so much more than frolicking with some rich men. I was approached by someone who promised to restore my family's wealth if I worked with him. All I had to do was become Danny's best friend and immerse myself in his life. It sounded simple enough. My family was paid discretely and was advised not to make a sudden change in lifestyle. That is why you missed that part of the equation. My family had not been broke for a long time when I came to the Hamptons. My motives here were quite different than what I spelled out to you on that day I decided to...have my way with you."

"You were _paid_ to be Daniel's friend? By whom?" Nolan said, scoffing in disbelief.

"I'll get to that in a moment," Tyler answered. "But first, let me tell you other things that you and your bitch friend, Emily Thorne - I mean, Amanda Clarke - missed about me. Not only was I Danny's best friend, but I was also groomed to join Grayson Global. At first, it was about knowing Danny Grayson, then it turned into learning about his family, and lastly learning about Grayson Global, which Danny was set to inherit. With each year I knew Danny, I was instructed to make myself more compatible to his life beyond Harvard's walls. The man who I was working with taught me everything Grayson Global did business in. He did not say why, not yet. I did not ask questions because I was afraid he would put my family back into the hole of poverty. He revealed things when he saw fit.

"Everything was going according to plan. I was all set to join Daniel here in the Hamptons, to work at his family's company. Then, he had to fall in love with the girl next door. It was very typical of a straight man. He gushed over the first blonde he sees. Got to hand it to our girl, Nolan, she knows how to work it. She's very resourceful. But, remember when you guys ruined Bill Harmon's life by manipulating his hedge fund investments? That came up on my superior's radar. That's when I was sent here prematurely on the night of the barbeque for Senator's Kingsley campaign. I came here to find out what was going on. And what do I find? I saw firsthand Emily's and your handiwork, as the good senator unexpectedly quit his successful campaign. That pregnant lady was just cherry on top.

"My superior quickly connected the dots between Bill Harmon and the Senator: David Clarke. He told me the truth about everything. I knew the truth about David Clarke, the Graysons, and the people using them as puppets, the Initiative. As it turns out, my recruiter was working with a man in the CIA to track down someone who had connections with the Initiative. When Harmon and Kingsley were targeted, they first thought it was the Initiative's work. But then, we found out that Emily Thorne was cellmates with Amanda Clarke. My objective here in the Hamptons was accelerated. I got the job at Grayson Global to get close to Conrad Grayson and uncover anything connected to the Initiative from within the company. I was also instructed to protect Danny from his lover's influence, hence my bold interference in their relationship. Too bad Emily took it personally and decided to throw you in my direction. Well, we all know how that turned out in the end." He imitated a gunshot to his chest.

Nolan was baffled by what he just heard. He took a hefty shot of the scotch and poured himself another glass. It took him a moment to recompose himself. "Wait if you knew the truth, why didn't you work with us?"

"We had other objectives besides petty revenge," Tyler scoffed. "Besides, we were not absolutely sure about Emily until I was able to get ahold of that box of hers with David Clarke's journals. Oh, that was when I went psycho. My apologies about that."

"You mean you aren't crazy?" Nolan said, rolling his eyes in doubt, taking another swig of the complacent alcohol.

"No. The meds that Emily found was a fake prescription. They were intended to be an alibi in case Danny asked questions why I harbored animosity toward his fiancée. But, when Emily snatched them, then led me to that video you secretly took of us sexing it up, I was assuming she was trying to drive me mad to come between us. So, I went crazy like she wanted. In the process, I stole your little hidden camera and made a copy for my superior. That was when he decided it was time to wrap up my assignment here in the Hamptons. I blackmailed Conrad Grayson with the footage of Frank Stevens pushing that blonde hussy, Lydia Davis, off the roof. He sure didn't like that. I crashed Danny's birthday party to cut ties with everyone here in the Hamptons. My fake brother, the surgeon you found, was to take me away.

"But, Emily had the gall to plant Frank Steven's wallet in my jacket. That bitch. What a clever girl, framing his murder on me. That set in motion something we did not expect. I ended up on the Initiative's radar, courtesy of Conrad himself. They sent a hitman after me. Totally took us by surprise. But, it actually worked in our favor. We finally got a foothold into the Initiative. So, all that was left to do was pull me off of the Grayson's radar. That's why I came back to break all hell loose on Emily and Danny's engagement party. I stole her box to ensure that we knew she was the real Amanda Clarke. I made sure the fake Amanda witnessed my psychosis at work. I pretended to want payback to set in motion framing Danny for my murder, with the help of Takeda, Emily's master. It was my last act to separate Danny from the claws of Emily. A lot of good that did. He's dead now."

Tyler looked at Nolan with a hint of sorrow in his eyes. Nolan could not believe that he was actually capable of feeling anything at all. All of the duress that he had caused him, tying him up in his own home, battering him a bit in the process. No, it could not be that Tyler had Daniel's best interests at heart. He was so cruel and manipulative. Tyler Barrol, the Hampton's most clever con artist. Evidently, he was too clever, if what he just confessed was true.

"So, how did you fake your death?" Nolan asked direly.

"CIA trade secret, Nolan," Tyler admonished. "Can't indulge you on that. Daniel really did shoot me though. Entirely unplanned. However, it increased the authenticity. Takeda worked with it."

"What about Ashley?" Nolan thought suddenly. "Where did she fit in all of this?"

Ashley Davenport, the Grayson's personal assistance. Tyler met her when he first came to visit Daniel. They plotted against the Grayson together for a time, since Ashley was so devoted to making a name for herself. "Just blending in to the scene. It was only natural that Ashley and I developed interest in one another."

"And what about me?" Nolan demanded, finishing his scotch. "Was I just blending in for you too?"

Tyler sighed and leaned forward, putting his hands together. "I'm sorry, Nolan. That was a way to keep close watch on you. We had some fun, but my priorities lied elsewhere."

"So, what are you doing here now? Back from the dead, so to speak?"

"I'm glad you asked," Tyler snapped his fingers. "All that story telling really got me going. I almost forgot my primary objective here." He cleared his throat. "Malcolm Black. I have no doubt you've heard of him. Ever since David Clarke had his own resurrection, trouble seemed to fall back into the Hamptons. But, Black was just a ruse. He was part of a bigger machine, and David Clarke did not know it. Now, more of that machine is in the Hamptons. My superior and I are after one of the masterminds behind it. We need someone local to help us with the cyberspace. This organization would know if we were using CIA resources. I thought of you, since you're a big tech genius."

"You're asking me for my help?" Nolan laughed incredulously. "What can I do for you? I lost my company to the Graysons. I lost my most valuable technology to the Initiative. As of now, I'm an owner of a damn elite club where rich people spend their days of leisure. As of right now, I'm technologically bankrupt."

"You know that's not true, Nolan," Tyler remanded, coming over to his side. "Technology is a part of you." He put a hand over Nolan's heart. "It's part of your soul."

Nolan backed away from Tyler's touch, uncomfortable with his forwardness. "And why should I help you...and your...superior? How do I know this won't get me killed?"

"You don't, but we'll do everything we can to insure your safety," Tyler replied.

"And if I refuse?" Nolan challenged. "What's to stop me from taking you both down instead?"

"Getting on fiery on me, eh?" Tyler chuckled, pulling out his phone from his pocket. He gave the screen a few taps. "That's okay. I'm pretty sure that you'll cooperate with us gladly. That is, if you still care about this hunk of eye candy you scored last year." He tossed the phone to Nolan's lap.

Nolan hesitantly looked at the screen. In bright HD was a surveillance feed of a small white cell. On the cottage bed in the middle of the cell lied a very familiar face. He was dressed in white garments. His dark blonde hair was matted. His face was writhed with worry. "Patrick," Nolan whispered shakily.

"Yes sir," Tyler said. "It seems like Emily isn't the only one who has a thing for one of Victoria Grayson's sons. He's a very good choice, Nolan. He has more spirit than Danny did. Work for us and Patrick Osborn goes free in you custody." He took the phone away from Nolan's quivering hands and got up. "We'll give you some time to think about this. Next time you see me, your former lover's fate will be in your hands. Think carefully."

Tyler patted him on the shoulder before making his way out of the door. Nolan groaned and poured himself a fourth glass of scotch.


	4. Omissions

[CHAPTER IV: OMISSIONS]

"Ben!" Emily shot up from her hardened cot, awakening from her unconscious state. Her anxious voice reverberated through the enclosed spherical cell she was in. It was small, but not cluttered and inhibitive. She immediately got up to her feet. The cell was equipped with a skylight at the zenith of the ceiling. Sunlight beamed through it, giving the cell a natural lighting. The walls were lined with lined with halogen light fixtures. At the corner adjacent to her cot was a stainless steel toilet and a sink with essential toiletries. An Asian folding screen blocked them from view for privacy. Well, at least she knew she had some decent hospitality around here. For a holding cell, it was oddly clean.

The entrance of the cell was locked with a glass sliding door. From her side, it showed the cell's reflection. Emily was willing to bet that it was a one-way mirror. It was a type of imprisonment where the prisoner cannot see her captors, but the captors can keep close eyes on her. She sighed in frustration and slapped her hand against the glass. She hated the idea of not knowing what was beyond her current living quarters. At least with Malcolm Black, she was held in a cage from which she could observe her surroundings. Here, she was blind. It would be impossible to plan any action. She's dealing with someone smart and organized.

Right now, she was not worried about herself. She was worried about Ben. At the Grayson Manor, she barely managed to save him from being punctured in the throat by their attacker's switchblade. That guy moved fast and efficiently. If Emily failed to move by a split second later, Ben would have been on her floor, dying in his own blood. But, instead of being able to subdue the intruder, Emily was subdued by his sleeper technique. She awoke in the trunk of the car. She was hoping the absence of Ben's body next to her meant that her abductor spared his life. She saw how the man dismantled Ben's gun in a routine fashion, as if he did it often. He could have used it to shoot Ben, that would have eliminated him as a threat. Maybe he was not planning to murder Ben with his switchblade. Maybe he was just going to use it to bargain Ben's life for Emily's surrender.

Not knowing, that was a real nuisance in her life. Planning for revenge meant to know every single variable. How did the intruder get into her home undetected? Did he take advantage of her disarming the alarm to make his way in? _Did he kill Ben or not? _ If another man died because of just being in her life, Emily would never forgive herself. Hell, she still shouldered the burden of Aiden's and Daniel's death upon herself. Especially Daniel's. From the get-go, he was not a target. She had told Nolan and Aiden that repeatedly. She even told herself that repeatedly, even when Daniel rebelled in their marriage with Sara, the woman whose life Daniel destroyed in a drunk driving accident. Why did Daniel have to be there to save her? She should have been shot, not him.

Survivor guilt will not solve anything. Emily cleared her head and inspected the toiletries on the sink. She was given a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, a bar of soap, a small towel, and a roll of toilet paper. Was this a hotel for the kidnapped? Or did her captors have germophobia? Did they only like clean people? Were they actually humane? Puzzled, she turned on the sink, finding that the water functioned perfectly. She went over to the toilet and flushed it, also finding that it too works. What the hell is going on?

She must have broadcasted that thought a little too loud. The door to her cell unlocked and slid open. The man who put her here stepped inside and beamed at the sight of her. "_Oh, hallo meine Frau_! _Wie gehts_?" He chuckled at her incomprehensive expression. "_Sprichst du Deutsch nicht_? _Schöne_."

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Emily demanded sternly, crossing her arms boldly.

"You are right, ja," the abductor nodded. "Mein Name ist Falco. Und yours? Ah ja, Ich kenne. Du are Emily Thorne."

Emily was confused. At the Manor, this Falco did not speak in this German/English manner. He sounded American. Is he playing mind games with her? His arrogance was becoming an annoyance. She exhaled deeply. "Why am I here?"

"Das ist not meine thing to say," Falco replied. "Ich will take you to unser boss. I told him about deine fighting skills. He wants to meet you. Come, meine Frau!" He gestured for her step out of the cell before him.

Emily walked past him and attempted to ambush him with an elbow to the face. He instinctively deflected her strike and penned her arm behind her back, shoving her against the wall. "_Ficken Frau! Kennst du wer ich bin?!"_ He hotly breathed on her neck. Emily defiantly struggled against his grip. Falco giggled with boyish excitement, entertained by her tenacity. He handled her with ease, pushing her into the corridor outside of the cell. Emily turned to strike him back, but found herself with a pistol pointed at her head.

"Enough play," Falco said, switching back to his American accent. His dark eyes seared into hers. "Let's go. The Cygnus is waiting for you. He's not a patient man." He grabbed her by shoulder and turned her around. "Walk."

Emily was lead down a series of dimly lit halls filled with cells just like hers. From the glimpses she was able to get, each cell was brightly lit by skylights, as if putting a natural spotlight on the person inside. She was not able to recognize any faces, for she was rushed along with a gun pressed against her lower back. Falco kept a close distance behind her, whistling incandescently. Some patrolmen they encountered along the way spoke to Falco in German as they passed. Judging from his peers ugly expressions toward him, Falco was not a well-liked man. If only she knew what they spoke to him about. Why did she only focus on Japanese when learning with Takeda?

"Did you kill my boyfriend?" Emily surprised herself, uttering it without thought.

"No," Falco answered firmly. "He's alive, as long as he does not do anything stupid."

A weight was lifted from her shoulders. She could breathe a little easier knowing that Ben was alive. Falco brought her to a set of double doors guarded by two tall men. With the gun still planted at her back, he recited, "_Kogda lebed'umirayet, on poyet svoyu poslednuyu dykhaniye_."

The guard to Emily's left smirked slyly, his aquamarine eyes looking at Falco with condescension. "_Deine russische ist noch schrecklich_, Falco." He and the other guard tittered amongst themselves.

Falco growled and aimed the gun over Emily's shoulder, firing a bullet into the left guard's knee. Emily jumped a bit and gasped in shock as the guard screamed in agony, falling to the ground holding the bloody wound with both of his hands. The other guard cursed at Falco and made to grab his gun, but the German was faster and trained his gun at his head. "Get the fuck out of our way."

The guard immediately obeyed, tending to his wounded comrade as Falco shuffled Emily through the doors. They swung closed behind them, blocking out the bawling and cursing. They were in a spacious, decorous lounge and office hybrid room. There was a fully stocked bar on the far side of the wall. Several lounge sofas were sprinkled about the room. At the corner closer to them was a mahogany desk. Shelves of books lined the walls behind it. In its chair was a rugged looking man with a mildly scarred face and salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in a shirt and tie. He was slightly older than Falco, but had an air of wisdom and maturity about him.

"_Der'mo_, Falco!" He hissed. "Did I not tell you to stop harming my guards? Is this boarding school or is this place of enterprise?"

"I am sorry, Herr Cygnus!" Falco said compliantly. "Please excuse my actions."

The Cygnus gave his subordinate a stern glare before looking upon Emily. "Welcome, _Gospazitza_ Emily Thorne. I do hope Falco's eccentricities have not uh…dampened your spirits, hmm? I am known as the Cygnus, but lovely lady like you can call me Pyotr." He paused to inspect her farther. "I can see why Falco has been taken with you. There is great fire in you. You are first woman to give him challenge. He talks about you with such affection. He may want to take you as his wife, no?" He chuckled cordially. "Come and sit. You and I have something to discuss." He indicated to one of the chairs facing his desk.

Emily genuinely did not want to, but after having witnessed Falco's undeterred rage, she decided it was in her best interest to be amenable. She was starting to understand that she was dealing with people above the run-of-the-mill that Emily had experience with. They may be on par or above the likes of the Initiative. A foreign presence on American soil meant they could be a critical threat to national security. She treaded carefully as she approached the Cygnus and sat across from him. She was slightly relieved when he dismissed Falco from the room.

"So, I'm assuming you ordered my abduction?" Emily probed cautiously.

"_Net_, _miledi_," the Cygnus shook his head. "This is more like…acquisition. Right now, you are commodity. People of Hamptons have high net worth, with assets and affluence unmatched by most of the world. Wall Street, CEOs, Entrepreneurs…this place is swarming with money. Valuable people like you reside here. Each one of you is worth something to someone or some company. We are auctioneers. The highest bidder gets you in his pocket. Sounds fun, no? Being able to possess a CEO, celebrity, or high powered investor like collectibles is my customer's business. Of course, families are able to buy back their loved ones here. Perhaps your lover, David Clarke will do same?"

"What?!" Emily reacted, not expecting her father to be called her lover.

"Oh please, do not be shy," the Cygnus said casually. "That…boy toy you see is quite a looker, but David Clarke seems to really care about you. He went to your rescue when Malcolm Black kidnapped you, no? You see, we know David Clarke and what he had done to betray Black. But, funny story, _Gospazitza_: That money that Clarke stole from Black was not Black's. It was supposed to be his payment to me. I trusted that pathetic fool to get it back from Clarke, but alas, it did not work out so. So, here we are, with you. Someone he cherishes. I'm sure he will be inclined to give me my money without a fuss." He sat back and beamed widely at Emily, toasting a glass of vodka to her before taking a drink.

* * *

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry for keeping you waiting," a redheaded man sighed, giving Louise a hug. He looked at Oliver and Thea and gave an amicable smile. "Hello, welcome to my little slice of paradise. I'm Nolan Ross. Louise was telling me how pleasurable your company has been."

"Likewise here!" Oliver nodded, shaking his hand. "I'm Oliver Queen, this is my little sister Thea Queen."

Nolan's jaw dropped at hearing his name. "Queen?! As in Queen Consolidated in Starling City?!" His face turned from grim to elated. "I've heard so much about Queen Consolidated in the technology sector. When I was in charge of NolCorp, I thought about doing a partnership with your company. My board kept telling me that Starling was not a good place to do business though. Not that I'm actually forming an opinion about your city."

Oliver laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. Compared to the Hamptons, Starling must have seemed like a ghetto in a CEO's eyes. Even though Starling possessed some major corporations like Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Corp, it did not have the flair of New York and its business community. "Starling could use some improvement," Oliver said in agreement. "In fact, I know a group of people dedicated to doing just that. Ray Palmer, the new CEO of my family's company, has a vision to renew Starling City to new heights. I know he will succeed."

In reality, he was not thinking about Palmer, but Roy Harper, Laurel Lance, Diggle, and Felicity Smoak. They were now an independent team. They had no necessity for his leadership to function. Each one of them were capable of keeping the streets of Starling safe. Roy as Arsenal had proved himself worthy of the bow. He grew up into a man with virtue. Laurel as the Black Canary, despite his objections, was something to behold. As the city's ADA, she could provide justice within a broad spectrum. Diggle, one of the most fiercest comrades he had known. Oliver knew his strength as a teammate. He was a reliable partner, even in the face of chaos. And Felicity, her intelligence and insights knew no bounds. While she was not a major part in the field, she held the team together countless of times. Oliver truly loved her, but he was afraid of what that would mean for them.

"Nolan, darling, these two were looking forward to meeting you," Louise interjected. "Perhaps you could give them a tour of the premises some time. Lots of amenities to enjoy here while you're in town!"

"We would like that," Thea nodded. "When you have time of course, Mr. Ross. I could really use advice from a CEO about running a business. From what Ollie was telling me, you were pretty successful with NolCorp. I'd like to hear some stories if you wouldn't mind."

"Please, call me Nolan," Ross told her. "I would be happy to show the Queen siblings my humble abode. How long will you be in town?"

Oliver and Thea looked at each other, scanning one another for answers. They were hoping to be in the Hamptons for only three days. However, Oliver decided to be more generous with the time frame. "We will be here for about a couple of weeks." He had a feeling that Darwin had business here that was time consuming. He was hoping that he would not have to be away from Starling for that long, but he had to be prepared for the possibility.

"Very well," Nolan nodded. "Let's make a date for -"

A short man with black wavy hair and weary eyes came to Nolan's side. "Hey Nolan," He greeted promptly. He politely nodded to everyone else in the group.

"Jack!" Nolan exclaimed, giving him a hug. "I did not expect to see you here!" He turned to Oliver and Thea. "Jack, this is Oliver Queen and Thea Queen. They are practically Hamptonites from Starling City. This is Jack Porter, a very esteemed man of honor."

"Nice to meet you," Oliver acquainted him, shaking his hand. Thea did the same.

"Same here," Jack responded. "Do you guys mind if I borrow Nolan for a minute? I need to talk to him about something important. It will only take about a few minutes."

Recognizing his tone of urgency, Oliver acted quickly. "No, not at all. In fact," he put a hand firmly on Nolan's shoulder, squeezing it in a friendly way. "I will get us another round of drinks. Mr. Porter, would you like something?"

"No thanks," Jack declined. "I will not be here for long."

"Okay then," Oliver conceded. "Thea, I will be back." He quirked up his eyebrows to give her a signal. Thea understood and nodded. She turned to make conversation with Louise. Oliver departed from the table and headed to the bar as Jack and Nolan went to the outdoor patio. He dug out his smartphone from his shirt pocket and dialed a three digit code. He held it up to his ear and listened as he patiently waited for the bartender's attention at the bustling bar.

"What's wrong, Jack?" Nolan's voice questioned with concern. "Everything alright?"

"Nolan, promise me that what I say to you will not be repeated to anyone else," Jack's urgent voice spoke.

"Okay," Nolan obeyed. "My lips are sealed."

Jack gave out an exasperated breath. "Emily is missing. She has been kidnapped from her home. Ben was attacked trying to defend her, but the guy was too tactical. Ben was tranq'd before the attacker took her."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down Jack," Nolan said eminently. "How did he get in without tripping the alarm? What was Ben doing there?"

There was a pause from Jack. "Ben was meeting Emily for lunch at her place. I'm guessing as a thank you for helping us with Malcolm Black. She disarmed the alarm so Ben could let himself in. I'm guessing the guy took advantage of that situation. But, Ben and I checked the security system. The surveillance system was still active. We are hoping that you can take a look at the footage and get a clear visual of the man and possibly ID him with whatever it is you do with your computer."

"Say no more, Jack," Nolan affirmed. "I can do it. Let's head over there right now. I know that surveillance system like the back of my own hand. I'll find him."

"What about those people in there you're meeting with?" Jack asked. "Are you sure you can just leave?"

"We just met," Nolan replied. "They'll have to wait."

Oliver glanced over at the patio doors and saw Nolan and Jack about to come back in. Oliver looked forward at the bar and pretended to still be listening on his phone. When he spotted Nolan approaching him from his peripheral, he casually hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket.

"Hey, Oliver," Nolan said with feigned enthusiasm. "I'm afraid to tell you that I have to be leaving right now. My friend Jack needs my help with something urgent."

"That's not a problem, actually," Oliver said, putting his hand on Nolan's shoulder again. "That was something important that just called me as well. Thea and I will be needing to head out now as well. Thanks for your hospitality. We really enjoyed this place." He patted Nolan amiably before withdrawing his hand and putting it in his pocket.

Nolan pulled out his wallet and gave Oliver a chrome business card with orange lettering. "Here's how to get ahold of me. Show this card to the bartender. Drinks for you and Thea, on the house. Enjoy the Hamptons!" He patted Oliver's muscled arm, probably to mimic his patting of the his shoulder.

Nolan and Oliver returned to the table and everyone exchanged their goodbyes. Louise gave Nolan a kiss on the cheek before he departed with Jack. She then said her farewell to Thea and Oliver before heading out the door herself. "What's going on?" Thea asked Oliver.

"I listened to them with the bug," Oliver told her. "They are going to try and see if they can discover Emily's abductor's identity. I placed the bug under his jacket collar, so I had to remove it. Let's hope they don't succeed before we can do anything."

Oliver lead Thea out of the bar, wishing Darwin would hurry up and give them a lead on his whereabouts.

* * *

The New York night sky was a dim sight to behold. It was mundane and characterless. No stars were visual. Clouds were scattered about. A gentle breeze blew into his face as he ventured into an abandoned industrial complex outside the city. Tyler was returning to his station. He could not wait to see his partner.

Seeing Nolan was a painful errand he had to do. He felt sorry for the guy, having had to go through what he put him through. Tyler went ballistic on him to sell his madness. He tied him up, roughed him a bit. He destroyed one of his laptops in his pool. He used Nolan to meet ends. All Nolan hoped for was a potential relationship. Too bad he had to ruin his ego in that endeavor. He had to make himself the enemy. His cover depended on it.

"Well, well, look at this lost cat!" A voice howled with jollity. Four men appeared from the shadows before him. Common thugs, probably in the middle of selling drugs. They approached Tyler with cockiness, sizing him up and staring at him dead in the eye. The ring leader, a Hispanic guy in a black long-sleeved shirt, scoffed at him. "I spy me some nice white ass. What do y'all think?"

"I'm down," the second Hispanic to his left agreed. "I bet he's nice and tight."

"I bet he works in vice," the swagger white guy to his right commented. "Look at him."

"I'm fucking horny," the black guy at the end followed. "Let's fuck him up."

Tyler got into defensive stance, ready for their onslaught. The guys laughed at him simultaneously. The leader shrugged and charged at him, the rest following behind. Tyler evaded the initial charge, dodging the leader's grapple. Swagger guy launched a punch. He snatched his wrist and tumbled him into the pavement. The black guy wrapped his arms around him from behind. Tyler focused his strength and disengaged the squeeze with his arms, freeing himself and elbowing the man in the throat and tripping him backward with a leg sweep.

The second Latino guy turned his cap backward and jabbed at him MMA style. Tyler parried and dodged each blow that came his way. He failed to see the leader come at him and was late to deflect a kick to the chest. He stumbled backward. The black guy grabbed him again from behind, holding him in place using the full Nelson technique. Swagger guy laughed and encouraged his friend. MMA guy punched Tyler repeatedly in the chest and stomach. He refused to show any sign of pain.

"Hold him against the wall," the leader commanded. Swagger guy and black guy dragged the weakened Tyler to the nearby building and penned him face first against the concrete. MMA guy hooted excitedly and yanked Tyler's pants down, exposing his buttocks to the chilled air.

"Yeah, look at that bubble ass, boss," Swagger taunted, giving Tyler a rough smack in the buttcheek.

The leader came up to Tyler and pulled his hair back, craning his neck back. He rubbed his crotch against him, saying into his ear, "Time to show you your pl -" His grip suddenly released as he groaned and dropped to the ground.

"What the f -" the black guy exclaimed, interrupted by a dagger piercing his throat. Two more whizzes sounded through the air as Swagger guy and MMA guy suffered blades impaling their lungs as well. They dropped dead in unison, leaving Tyler in dead silence.

He sighed in relief and pulled his pants up. He examined the four bodies around him, silver dagger handles protruding from them, glistening in the nightlights. He looked up in the distance and saw a stoic man eying him intensely with those entrancing viridian eyes. His short dark brown hair swayed lightly in the wind.

"Thank you... Simon," Tyler said shallowly.

"Get inside," the man told him firmly. "I'll clean up here. When I get back, I expect an explanation for your tardiness."

"Yes, I'm fine, really," Tyler said sarcastically. "Thanks for asking."

He headed for the station as his superior went to clean up the body. When they crossed paths, the quiet man put a hand briefly on Tyler's shoulder and squeezed affectionately.


	5. Confections

A/N: I apologize for the delay. Last week was a mess work-wise. This is a very dense chapter. On with the show.

[CHAPTER V: CONFECTIONS]

"What were you thinking?" Simon came into the station, asserting a demanding tone. His hands were varnished red from dried blood. "Did you really think you could take on four men at once?"

Tyler turned his attention from the work he was doing, swirling the computer chair he sat on around and gave his boss a sly grin. "If only I had a nickel for each time a guy asked me that." Simon was not amused by his remark. His face remained stony. Tyler always told him that he needed a sense of humor. After all, it was a heart-healthy thing. He beamed at the cold-blooded assassin, hoping to elicit a small spark of warmth in him with his traditional charm. When it failed, he sighed loudly, exasperated by his boring moroseness. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, o' anointed one. Forgive me?"

"Nothing needs to be forgiven, _Babnik_," Simon said, despondent to his attempt at reprieve. _Babnik_ was his codename for Tyler, who hated it with a passion. It was a Russian word equivalent to the phrase like Don Juan, or Casanova. It was Simon's sly comment on Tyler's casual carnal history with people. Maybe it was a subtle reminder what Simon had done for him. He went over to the computer monitor opposite of Tyler and checked the surveillance images cycling on the screen. "You have your own free will. Next time, I may not be there to save you from having your ass reamed."

Tyler chuckled, knowing better than to believe his dismissal of his safety. He may have been known to others as "Darwin", the Ghost Assassin, but he knew him as Simon Kincaid, a man with a lonely heart capable of love. He would know. He and Simon were lovers. He had experienced emotional and physical affection with him. Albeit, Simon was not a traditional lover, but Tyler made do with what he had to work with.

He still remembered his first encounter with Simon. It was a bright sunny day on Harvard's campus. The summer was ending, and first semester classes had just begun. Tyler was making his way through the Harvard Yard, the most historic part of the campus, with its lush grass, treasured libraries, and freshman dormitories. He was returning from his afternoon classes. On his way, he saw a tour guide leading a group of hopeful prospects. He nodded politely to them all as he passed by.

He did not notice one of the tourists falling from the group in pursuit of him. When he crossed the grassy walkway near the libraries, it was unpopulated. That was when his follower took the opportunity and grabbed him from behind, slamming him against a nearby tree. When Tyler was not submissive, fighting back, his hinderer turned him around and held a dagger with a silver handle to his neck. There was Simon, dressed in Harvard clothing gear, including a cap and crimson sunglasses. He was slightly taller than Tyler, with a rugged body underneath that clothing. He took off his sunglasses, revealing his verdant eyes which matched the surrounding greenery around them. They exhibited an intense anguish and calm reserve.

"Go on," Tyler spoke emphatically. "Take whatever you want. My wallet is in my back pocket."

"I'm not after your money, Mr. Barrol," Simon said. "In fact, I have an offer to make you. I know all about your family's misfortune. If you wish to change that, meet me in the Widener Library in twenty minutes." He drew back, allowing Tyler to compose himself. "This is a one in a lifetime opportunity to raise your family above the ashes. I suggest you be there, second floor, German section. I'll be waiting."

"Who are you?" Tyler asked him before he departed.

"Tired of living the life of a hustler? I'm someone who can equip you with a life far superior than exchanging tricks. Join me soon, I'll tell you how."

From that moment forward, Tyler was in the palm of Simon's hands. It was the honest truth that he wanted a life outside of being someone's boy toy. When his family lost their penthouse, money, and cushy living, everyone they knew cast them away like rodents. Suddenly they were no longer desirable by association. The Barrol name was tarnished by his father's inability to manage his investments. Tyler, not wanting to see his mother and brother suffer from his father's mistakes, sought to make amends. At first, he tried to obtain a job to keep the family afloat. When his older brother left for medical school, Tyler fell from job to job, unable to sit still.

That wandering around led him to the world of hustling. Tyler drifted into an upscale bar, sporting his best shirt and tie, hoping to network as his father had done before him. Instead of landing a job, he landed a flimsy sexual encounter. An older, suave man by the name of Caleb Ponce, approached him in the bathroom. He was a prominent lawyer in the area, known for his aggressive prosecution. He was fit, charismatic, and persuasive. He was also married. But that did not stop him from glancing at Tyler's package at the urinal. He liked what he saw and wanted more. When they were on their way out, Mr. Ponce placed a hotel card in Tyler's shirt pocket, told him the room number, and offered him $5000 to show him how that package worked in the sheets.

At first Tyler had no intention of showing up. But, when the night became unproductive to his objective, he reconsidered, knowing he was in no position to turn down that much money. It was just sex, right? Prior to that night, he had not been with another man before. The good attorney eased him in to it. Mr. Ponce was very skillful, causing him to actually enjoy their vigorous carnality all over the hotel room. Marriage must have been an effective incubator of pent up sexual energy.

Afterward, Mr. Ponce fronted him with the cash and highly advised him to keep his discretion. Tyler expected it to be a one-time occurrence. Unexpectedly, Mr. Ponce called him up a week later and wanted more. Thus began Tyler's descent into the hustling business. At first it was just the attorney, but then Ponce told a few of his friends about Tyler's willingness to service him. Those friends contacted Tyler for those services, and told _their _friends after the fact. It was exhausting work to satisfy men who no longer had sexual attraction to their spouses. They paid good chunks of money to relive the days of their twenties. Tyler earned every dollar, performing acts he never dreamed of doing in the first place.

All the money he earned went directly to his parents. Of course, they asked where he was getting his income. Tyler did not lie and told them the situation. At first they were appalled by it, but when Tyler made them see that it was strictly business and that he wanted to get his family out of crippling debt, they hesitantly did not oppose the measure. His father apologized for getting them into their mess, and his mother told him to be careful.

Unfortunately, the money he was earning was chump change compared to the millions of dollars of crippling debt the Barrol family faced. At least he was able to put his family into a comfortable home and a place to start rebuilding. However, Tyler yearned for more. He wanted to make more money, cleanse the Barrol name, and return his family back to the lavish estates they formerly lived in. Naturally, he set his sights to the Ivy League. As luck would have it, his clientele referrals reached the ears of Leslie Montgomery, an entrepreneur with a generosity toward bright young men. After few after-hours sessions with him, Harvard was his to conquer.

Tyler watched Simon doing routine protocol around the station, checking systems, analyzing intelligence data, rechecking the surveillance footage to make sure Tyler's encounter with the gangbangers was erased from it. Assassins like him were so meticulous in detail, having the impulsive need to be prepared for anything and everything. When he met Simon on the second floor of the Widener Library, the first thing that occurred was a quick frisk between unoccupied bookshelves. He was checking for concealed recording devices. From that initial contact, Tyler learned from then on that Simon favored being in control. After being recruited to infiltrate Daniel Grayson's life, every action Tyler took was scrutinized closely by the ever watchful assassin. He could not even go to the bathroom without a say from his superior. It might be hyperbole, but it may not be as well.

It took Tyler three years to finally thaw Simon's icy heart. Over the years, piece by piece, he learned that Simon was on a quest to find the man who murdered his adoptive parents in cold blood when he was sixteen years old. Accessing the Graysons was a step closer to achieving that goal, since the killer had ties to the Initiative, the organization _behind_ the Graysons. Simon was patient, willing to wait four years for Tyler to graduate with impressive credentials from Harvard, build a strong friendship with Daniel, and get his foot into the doors of Grayson Global. He was willing to wait for Tyler's use to come to fruition. During those initial three years, Simon shaped Tyler into an effective spy so he was prepared to perform his duties in Grayson Global.

Simon and Tyler were antithetical to one another. While Simon was sociopathic, quiet, stoic, disciplined, and conservative, Tyler was friendly, rowdy, forward, anarchic, and impertinent. It was for that reason that Simon frequently assigned Tyler to run point on human intelligence operations. While reconnaissance, cyber information, and signal intelligence were useful, nothing could replace good old-fashioned human intelligence information. Simon often complained that Tyler talked too much, thus he put his annoying habit to good use.

Despite Simon's hardened exterior, Tyler knew there was compassion beneath it all. All that was needed was someone to draw it out. He worked hard to bypass the assassin's personal barriers. The result was winning his heart. It happened shortly after they expertly faked Tyler's death to extract his presence from the Hamptons. They were infiltrating one of the Initiative's cells in Canada. They got caught in an ambush, and Simon fought hard to get Tyler out safely. Simon was critically injured during their escape, requiring fast medical attention. With the help of Simon's CIA partner, they reached a trusted doctor in time. When Simon woke up the next day, he confessed to Tyler in his bed, "You are important to me, Barrol. So goddamn important. I'm glad I have you at my side." It was probably the morphine drip coursing through his veins which allowed those words to escape from his lips. All the same, Tyler reciprocated his feelings.

Being Darwin, Simon was a very difficult lover. He was no Edward Cullen. He knew what he was: an assassin by trade, discipline, and lifestyle. He made no effort to conceal that nature. In fact, he was forthcoming about the expectations were entering the relationship. Simon was going to continue his craft, and Tyler must have accepted it. There was no brooding dilemma about it. A good thing about being a relationship with a career killer: they were transparent in intent and willing to be blunt, regardless of the reaction it would earn. It was something Tyler could appreciate, especially since most gay men are neither transparent in deeds nor blunt with words. Simon may not have shown affection like a star-crossed lover, but he placed Tyler's best interests at a critical priority. Despite not wanting to share his lethal skills, Simon chose to train Tyler in case he was unable to protect him in future missions.

"Everything is clean," Simon declared, turning to Tyler, who was still watching his lover from his computer chair. "Do you need painkillers?"

"No," Tyler responded. "I want to stay sharp."

"Good choice," Simon approved. Tyler got up and embraced him from behind. His muscles stiffened at the intimate touch. It was a typical reaction when Tyler tried to initiate physical affection. It was still a relatively new thing they were trying. Simon had no clue how to react to affectionate touch. It was as if his brain shut off, his body paralyzed by the physical aspect of love. Tyler was in the process of easing him into the experience.

"Just relax," Tyler whispered in his ear, rubbing Simon's sculpted chest, pressing his body against him. "Lose yourself with me." He tenderly pressed his lips within the curves of his taut neck, inhaling his musky scent. Simon was breathing deeply, most likely restraining himself from breaking Tyler's contact. When there was no contest, Tyler got bolder and started clenching his rigid pectorals while sucking his neck with care.

Before they could indulge in farther passion, Simon stopped Tyler and pushed him away. The next moment, another man came into the station, hoisting a duffle bag on his shoulder. Simon glanced at Tyler with a fretful look before turning his attention to his other partner. "Nat, what did you find?"

Nat, a man in his mid-thirties, a constant five-o-clock shadow, and useful CIA access. His real name was Balthazar Mylan, senior case officer. Nat was his codename, a homophone of _gnat_, a nickname Simon called him during his early training days with him, due to his tendency to hover tediously. "It's not much, but it's a start," he reported. "David Clarke is currently residing in the beach house next to the Grayson estate. I monitored the place. He was absent most of the day and evening. He returned about half an hour ago in his own vehicle. I was unable to confirm whether the Syndicate had made contact with him yet."

"For now, we'll assume they haven't," Simon told him. "It's getting late. They'll most likely strike tomorrow, early in the morning. We should get some rest. We'll need to intercept them."

"There's another problem," Balthazar added. "Our prisoner, Patrick Osborn, may be a contingency for us. There's an MPR in Pittsburgh for him. The agency there may reach out to Victoria Grayson."

"Fixable," Simon snarled, giving Tyler a stinging glare. "Right, Barrol? It was your idea to use him as leverage. Go talk to your prisoner. Persuade him to reach out to the person who would report him missing. Do it quickly."

Tyler nodded and departed from them, picking up his burner phone on the way to the cells adjacent to the main room of the station. The metal door had a digital lock. He entered the 7 digit code and stepped into the white cell. Patrick lunged at him from the side, attempting to take him down. Tyler grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind his body, subduing him to his knees, threatening to dislocate it.

"You're wasting your time with me," Patrick pleaded. "Nolan does not care about me. He will not do what you want for me."

"We'll see," Tyler countered, shoving him to the floor. Patrick groaned and stumbled back up against the bed. "But, someone out there does care about you. Cares about you enough to notice you have gone missing. Any idea who that would be?"

Patrick gulped hard at his captor's inquisitiveness. "How should I know?"

"Come on, Osborn," Tyler rolled his eyes. "I know you're smarter than that." He tossed him the burner phone. "Call your roommate, boyfriend, fuck buddy, whoever is involved in your life. Tell them you're on a personal hiatus and had no inclination to tell anyone. Try anything funny, and I'll make sure that missing report turns into an obituary."

Patrick quivered as he hesitantly began dialing a phone number.

* * *

Ben Hunter pulled his SUV into the Grayson Manor's spacious driveway. He rushed out of the vehicle and knocked on the front door. Jack answered it and led him to the office where Nolan was working from. "Sorry I'm late," he told them. "My case got very interesting. Any luck on the man's identity?"

"I should be getting a hit any minute now," Nolan affirmed. "I'm combing through Interpol's database. I have a feeling that man isn't American."

"What do you mean?" Ben asked.

"His getaway car was registered to a manufactured alias," Jack explained while Nolan kept working. "The alias is John Butler. This alias was first used in Switzerland for a bank transaction. Nolan suggested that the alias was created to initiate a visa to get into the States."

The computer chimed urgently. Nolan's face beamed with relief. "Gotcha!" He turned the monitor around to show Jack and Ben. "Gentlemen, I present to you, Falco Daniloff, Interpol's wanted for arms trade. He's from Bremen, Germany. Now that I have this information, I'll send out a crawler to look for facial recognition matching his image. The next time he steps out into the Hamptons, I'll know where."

"This is great, Nolan," Ben praised him, looking at the information on the computer monitor. "How did he make it through the border without flagging at Interpol? He's a dangerous man."

"He's a mercenary for hire," Nolan speculated. "He must move very fluidly. It's easy to dodge facial recognition with the right clothing at the right angle, especially in places with lots of people. Thankfully, the Hamptons is a select area. It will not be too difficult to find him if he resurfaces here."

"Okay, so what do we do after we locate him?" Jack inquired, thinking critically at the monitor. "This guy moves fast, so even if your crawler spots him, we'll be reactive and still be behind him. We need to devise a way to be able to hail him down immediately before he goes off grid again."

Ben thought for a second. He could order squad cars to keep an eye out matching Daniloff's description. But, if the guy was as smart as Nolan made him out to be, Daniloff would be skillful at counter-surveillance techniques. Still, the city-wide net of eyes could put pressure on him. However, that would risk putting Emily's life in peril if Falco caught even the slightest clue of a manhunt for him. Was there a way to survey the city without compromising her safety?

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind. "There is one option," he announced, staring intently at Falco's Interpol photo. "There is a German consulate here in New York City. I could call and ask about John Butler's visa. Say a witness to a case placed him near the scene. It may not mean much, but it could make some waves. Perhaps I can get more information about this guy's alias, maybe find out what the purpose of the visa is."

"It sounds kind of risky," Jack told him. "If an outside force gets involved, Falco will know it was you."

"I'll be discrete," Ben assured him. He was already planning what he would do to initiate the contact with the consulate. It would not be difficult at all.

Nolan was gazing at a photo of Emily and David on the desk beside the computer. He abruptly connected the dots between Emily's abduction and the information Tyler revealed to him at his house earlier that evening. "I can't believe I have not thought of this before. We need to bring David into the fold."

"Why?" Jack questioned. "We can take care of this between ourselves."

"Well, for one, he's her father," Nolan scoffed. "Secondly," he paused for a moment, thinking of how to phrase his reasoning without revealing Tyler Barrol was alive. "David told Emily that Malcolm Black was involved in arms trading up in Canada when he was captured by him. What if Falco Daniloff was involved with Malcolm Black? David may know more about this guy. Maybe even know how to initiate contact with him."

"It could possibly explain why he targeted Emily," Ben analyzed. "But, if he's in town, why go for her instead of Mr. Clarke? Emily has been careful to keep her true identity concealed. For all he knows, he has Clarke's rich next-door neighbor."

"I don't know," Nolan sighed. "But, I will show him the footage tomorrow."

"He's going to be so pissed off at me," Ben shook his head in shame.

"I'm sure he will be understanding," Nolan consoled him. His cell phone rang. He glanced at it and saw a Starling City area code. "I'm going to take this call outside." He hurried out the door, not wanting to miss the call. When he was in privacy, he answered, "This is Nolan Ross."

"Hey Nolan," Oliver Queen's greeted from the other end. "I hope I am not calling too late. I just wanted to call to say thank you for your company today at the yacht club. Thea and I enjoyed ourselves. Were you able to help you friend?"

"All is well here, Mr. Queen," Nolan replied. "Thank you for asking."

"Please, call me Oliver. I'm hoping that you and I will become friends during our time here."

Nolan smiled. "The feeling is mutual, Oliver. I would like nothing more than to extend my friendship to you."

"Perfect," Oliver exclaimed. "I will be seeing you soon, then."

"I look forward to it," Nolan responded.

"Have a good night, Nolan," Oliver said, ending the call.

Nolan did a quiet celebratory jump. He may have a way to get out of the mess with Tyler and his superior's demand for his help.

* * *

Oliver placed his cell phone on the table and looked at the laptop screen in front of him. "Did you get it?" He asked into the monitor.

Felicity was on webcam from their base underneath the Verdant. She nodded. "Yes, I got through his cell phone firewall. I have access to everything he does on it and his location."

"Thank you, Felicity," Oliver expressed his gratefulness, holding Nolan's business card in his hand. "You made our objective a lot easier now. Have a good night."

"You too, Oliver," Felicity said.

Before she could sign off, Oliver said hastily, "Wait!"

"Yes?" Felicity obeyed.

"I miss you," Oliver uttered quietly. For a brief glimpse, he saw her beam and blush. He quickly logged off before she could return his words.


	6. Call To Arms

[Chapter VI: The Call to Arms]

The morning sun sparkled within the ocean expanding to the east. The salty wind caressed their faces with careful tendrils. The playful water jollily lunged into the beach shore, emitting a soft slosh as it receded from the sand. Tyler and Simon jogged along the shoreline near Clarke's beach house. They were dressed in tank tops and gym shorts to establish their cover as bystanders. They wore transparent sunglasses constructed with technology similar to Google Glass. The wearable devices were actually surveillance receptors linked to the dash camera located in Simon's car, which was parked a slight distance from Clarke's personal driveway. The dash cam was a high fidelity resolution device, possessing a recording range up to four hundred feet in HD. When there is any suspicious activity, they will know.

After jogging a tenth cycle along the shore, Simon suggested they take a break. They sat down at the beach area behind Clarke's house, acting exhausted and deciding to watch the sunrise in reverie. Simon checked his mechanical watch on his left wrist. "It's about to be 6:30. Perfect lighting from the sun to move about the house without having to use its interior lights. Knowing the Cygnus, he'll send a two, _maybe_ three-man team to extract him forcibly. I will take the one running point, as he will be handling Clarke while his partner acts as support."

"How do you know?" Tyler inquired. "He sent only one man after Emily."

"Hamptons' elites do not provide any adversity," Simon derided. "He did not have the foresight to know she could put up a fight. With David Clarke, it's a different story, given his past relationship with Black. He has to ensure his capture."

Tyler studied the radiant sunrise as a flock of seagulls glided by. "Why didn't we help her when she was targeted? With her, we could already be inside the Syndicate. She is very skilled at what she does."

"No doubt," Simon concurred. "But, she's unpredictable. I need someone with an incentive to willingly surrender himself to the Cygnus. David Clarke provides that docility. Amanda Clarke is an attractive incentive. Besides, Merlyn's associate is another loose end. If he follows me to their compound, there is a chance they can manage to kill him. It may be a false hope, but hope nonetheless."

Tyler did not know much about Simon's past with the League of Assassins, only that he killed a few of their officers in exchange for information. From what he was told, Nanda Parbat was a well-sanctioned fortress: highly organized, efficient patrol, and strong unity. In order to breach their defenses, Simon had to become one of them. He immediately appealed to their leader and begged for reformation as a hot-headed kid named Derek Bolin. Simon was crafty, possessing an uncanny ability to emulate any emotion at will, even if he was void of them at the time. He could go to Hollywood if he wished.

Their surveillance sunglasses alerted them to activity at the beach house. As predicted, a two-person team approached Clarke's front door. One was picking the lock while the other looked out for third parties. Tyler looked at Simon, who nodded affirmatively for action. They got up from the sand and dashed to the back porch, careful to keep the element of surprise. They caught a glimpse of the support man disabling the alarm with a code decipher while the lead went up the steps to retrieve David Clarke. The duo crept along the wrap-around porch, entering the front door which was left open.

"Hey! Let go of me!" David's voice shouted from the bedroom. Several thumps were audible from the ceiling above. Simon rushed past the support man, evading three shots fired from his silenced pistol. Tyler intervened and grappled him from behind, disarming him quickly before he could discharge another shot. Simon disappeared beyond the stairs. Tyler tried to asphyxiate the man in his hold, but his brawn was stronger than he appeared. The Syndicate grunt bashed him against the wall and separated from him.

Tyler and the grunt tangoed with one another,exchanging blows, kicks, and interlocking techniques. The ginger eventually managed to outpace his opponent, gaining the upperhand when the grunt misjudged his two-step combo, resulting in an unexpected kick to the thigh. When he recoiled from the pain, Tyler took the opportunity to uppercut him in the jaw, knocking him down to the floor. While the grunt was down, Tyler rolled him over and snapped his neck in a swift movement. A wave of nausea rose inside of him, but he fought to curtail it. Killing was not his specialty.

Two gunshots sounded from the upper floor. Tyler swiftly traversed the stairs and went into the bedroom. Simon was aiming a pistol at the limp body of the other Syndicate member. David Clarke stood in the corner by his bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. Simon was right. The Cygnus had the tendency to strike his targets when they were at their most vulnerable. Clarke looked at Tyler's presence with confusion. "What's going on? Who are you two?"

"Mr. Clarke, you can call me Darwin," Simon announced. He gestured to Tyler. "This is my associate, Tristan." He was referring to Tyler's actual working alias, Tristan Braddock, a P.I. from Kansas City, Missouri. It was created to give him a cover if he was ever in public scrutiny while performing intelligence operations. "How about you get dressed and we will explain everything to you downstairs. While you're doing that, my associate and I will clean up the bodies."

Tyler assisted Simon in lifting the body of the lead Syndicate grunt and taking it downstairs to the other one. They searched both bodies for a cell phone. Tyler found a burner on the leader and gave it to Simon. He briefly checked it and nodded in approval. He put it aside and began stripping both bodies of their clothes. Tyler went out back door and obtained the duffel bag they hid beneath the bench swing earlier that morning. He brought it back inside and placed it beside the bodies. He helped finish the stripping of the second grunt's body and then retrieved two heavy-duty black garbage bags from the duffel. One by one, they placed the dead bodies into the bags and concealed them tightly by the drawstrings.

Simon instructed Tyler to get the car while he bagged their clothes, weapons, and pocket contents separately. David came downstairs by the time they placed the bagged bodies in the SUV's trunk. "What are you going to do with the bodies?" Clarke asked.

"You don't want to know," Tyler responded. "What matters is that they will not attract attention to you…or your daughter."

"My daughter?" Clarke said, confused. "Is this about Charlotte?"

"No, Mr. Clarke," Simon answered. "It's about the other one. The one who is presumed dead, only she isn't. She's actually your next door neighbor."

David gulped nervously, not knowing how to react to their knowledge of his beloved daughter, Amanda Clarke. "Who are you working for? What's going on?"

"We work for ourselves," Simon told him, gesturing him to go into the living room. "Have a seat. Tristan will explain everything to you while I clean up your bedroom." He went back and retrieved the duffel bag before departing up the stairs again.

Clarke looked at Tyler with speculation. "What's his deal?"

"His people skills are very limited," Tyler chuckled. He sat across from David. "Okay, Mr. Clarke, I'm going to need you to listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you. Every detail will be crucial, especially if you want our help to ensure Amanda Clarke is saved."

"Saved?" David interjected direly. "What do you mean? What has happened to my daughter?"

"Tell me, what do you know about the Cygnus Syndicate?" Tyler spoke curiously.

* * *

Emily was returned to her cell after being granted the opportunity to shower. She guessed they must keep their commodities in pristine condition. Each shower had its own enclosed stall, and she and other women were shepherded in like cattle to wash and refresh themselves after a night of solitude. None of them saw one another. Their entrance and exit were coordinated such that they were isolated from each other. It was smart, minimizing liability when a captive is auctioned back to a loved one. If they could not identify other victims, they had no capability to understand their scheme. If they tried to go to law enforcement, they would only lead them to a dead end.

After she was finished dressing, Falco came into the cell, bearing a tray of food. "_Gutten morgen, meine Frau! Hast du Hunger?_" He handed the tray to her. "_Für dir._" He beamed with joy when she accepted it.

Emily sat on her cot and looked at the main plate consisting of eggs, bacon, shredded hashbrowns, and mini-waffles. A fruit bowl was on the side, along with a chilled glass of orange juice. "Wow," she commented sarcastically. "I did not know I was staying at the Hyatt. If only I could move freely, I would rate you guys five stars."

Falco laughed at her seething spite. "You are a funny one, Miss Thorne. It's a shame that I cannot take you back with me to my home in Germany. Your stay should not be too long. We have men bringing your lover here as we speak. As long as he plays it smart, you both should be back at home by the night."

While Emily ate her food, Falco watched her with fascination. His presence was becoming increasingly irritating, like an attached schoolboy with a crush. Surprisingly, the food was actually delicious and satiating. When her captor asked how it tasted, she gave him no answer. Her silence was amusing to him. She could not help but think that he was some diabolical and twisted man. Not only did he have what seemed like multiple personalities, such as his playful German self and his malicious American self, but he also had spontaneous violent outbursts and quickness to anger. She witnessed that when he shot that guard's knee, solely on the basis because the guard was making fun of him. That gave her a clue about him: he was sensitive to being criticized or patronized. It was a weakness she could exploit later, if she had the opportunity.

"You know, Falco, I'm quite curious about something," Emily said with feigned civility. "Why are you here in this organization? From what I can tell, your colleagues do not get along well with you."

"You are very perceptive," he extolled her. "Alas, one cannot gain honor without making enemies first. Many of my comrades are envious of my rapid promotion with the Cygnus. They also do not like that I have no Russian descent. I'm a top-tier warrior in the Cygnus's arsenal. He is wise enough to see past nationalities. I was recruited when three of his men tried to rob the bank I worked in Berlin. I contained two and killed the third in five minutes. I was proclaimed a hero in the _Zeitungen_, the uh…newspapers. The next day, the Cygnus came to me personally and offered me a job. More pay, travel, perfect benefits. What more can a man ask for?"

"How about your freedom?" Emily retorted. "Surely, this lucrative affair comes at a hefty cost. He owns you for life."

"Ah, you Americans," Falco smirked. "You and your freedom. It's such a delinquent notion, almost juvenile really. You think _freedom_ is the capacity to act in any way you wish, as long as it does not detract certain _unalienable_ rights. What you fail to realize is that this capacity, in theory, may be possible, but in practice, it is deplorable. Freedom is an illusion. It does not exist. Yes, this country has more luxuries, but that is merely a result from the puppet strings of consumerism. The cost of your freedom is far more 'hefty', as you say, than my cost to service the Cygnus. If only you knew the secrets of your corrupt government."

"What would you know about our secrets?" Emily challenged him daringly. "You're just a lackey."

"Very true," Falco snickered devilishly, enamored by her fiery demeanor. "But, there are things you cannot help but to overhear when the Cygnus drinks his vodka. His knowledge of the United States is particularly fascinating. The depths your foreign agencies will go to collect their intelligence and obtain the objects of their desires are so dark, you would wonder just how far the rabbit hole would go. Besides, it is their fault that we are here in the first place." He sighed with disdain. "I would much rather be in Berlin, or even Moscow. At least we could then operate with _schöner _scenaries."

When Emily was done with her meal, Falco took her tray and opened the cell door. He handed it off to someone and instructed something in either German or Russian before closing the door. Emily's eyes blazed with spite. He's still sticking around? His persistence presence over her was as aggravating as a pack of fleas. Now it concerned her, causing her to wonder if he had an ulterior agenda at play. "What game are you playing at?" she crossed her arms as she stood up. "Why are you acting so amicably toward me? What's your incentive?"

"A handsome man such as myself cannot enjoy the sight of a beautiful woman like you?" Falco said comically. The humor was lost on her. "I like the way you think. You think like a warrior. I admit, I am, as you say, star-struck by you. It is rare to meet a beauty who possesses the heart and mind of a warrior. I have a soft spot for women who can hold their own without a man. It makes the prospect of a relationship with such a woman attractive, because I would have to work at earning her partnership."

"And you think you can earn mine?" Emily responded condescendingly.

"A foolish fantasy, I know," Falco blushed boyishly. "But, it is the standard I must have for a wife. Like you said, my life is in the Cygnus's hands. If I am to marry a woman, she should know how to handle the dangers of my work. Oh well, until then, it is better to be alone than risk the unnecessary death of a woman I would come to love. Even us Germans have hearts that can break and sorrow. Too bad I am a deep romantic."

Before the conversation could continue, an urgent buzz sounded at the cell door. Falco clenched his fist in frustration and opened the door. "_Was ist es_?!" He demanded impatiently.

"_Der Cygnus will sehen dich_," a man outside the cell replied. "_Baum und Hoch verpassten ihre eincheckin_."

Falco nodded with a smirk on his face. "_Ich verstehe_. _Sagen Sie den Cygnus ich werde sein bald da_." When the man departed, Falco turned his attention to Emily. "Well, this is interesting. Mr. Clarke must be a strong man, being able to kill two of our men. I guess it falls upon me to escort him here. Do not worry, I will not harm him… too much." He winked and exited the cell, leaving Emily to wallow in concern for her father.

* * *

Nolan knocked on David Clarke's front door. His vehicle was still in his driveway, thankfully. It was almost 9 A.M., a fact which had him worry. He recalled David being a notorious early bird, always compelled to get something done before going into the office at Grayson Global. Perhaps now that he was a free man, in the most literal sense, David had no need for rising before the sun. He only hoped it was not too early to deliver the news of his daughter's abduction.

When David answered the door, the man looked disheveled. "Nolan," he said almost breathlessly, as if he came back from running a marathon. "What a pleasant surprise! Sorry, I'm still composing myself for the day. I'm about to head out, but you can come in for a bit."

Nolan followed him into the living area. On the main couch, David was in the process of packing a small suitcase with clothes, toiletries, and other items. "Are you about to take a trip?" he asked gravely, immediately regretting that he had bad news to bear. He had no desire to rain in on the man's travel plans.

"Just for a couple of days," David answered, continuing packing some final articles of clothing. "I need to get away from the Hamptons for a breather. I need to rethink my life now that I'm free from Malcolm Black's hold. I've been thinking that I can't bond with Amanda unless I piece my life back together. I think being in a different place will be beneficial."

"D-David," Nolan groaned with dismay. "Now would not be the best time for you to leave."

"Why not?" David inquired, perplexed by his glum tone. "If anything, this is the best time. I'm in the right place to take this step."

"I understand that, David," Nolan concurred. "But, if you leave, you may not have a daughter to bond with when you return." The words flowed from his lips without restraint. When David stopped what he was doing, eying him with alarm, he exhaled sharply and fished out his laptop from his shoulder bag. "Emily was abducted yesterday from the Grayson manor. I found out the identity of her captor. I have the footage on here. I'm hoping that you could recognize him. Maybe he's someone you ran into in Canada when Malcom Black recruited you into his operations."

He sat the laptop on the coffee table and quickly brought the surveillance footage up. David trailed over and watched the video of a strongman lifting an unconscious Emily over his shoulder and exiting the front door after passing an unconscious man he did not recognize due to his face being away from the camera. Before the man disappeared from the camera's line of sight, Nolan froze the video and zoomed in on the man. David tried his best to place his face, but no dots were connecting.

"His name is Falco Daniloff," Nolan told him when he realized that David expressed no recognition. "He is a German on Interpol's radar. I do not know who he is working for, but I have a feeling he is connected to Black somehow."

David gulped anxiously and suddenly took off toward the kitchen. Nolan, out of concern, followed him. The older man poured himself a glass of bourbon and shot it down. He seemed unnerved. "I know my daughter has been taken," he revealed. "I received a phone call from someone demanding that I give them the money I stole from Malcom Black or they will auction off Amanda to someone in China or Japan. Someone is coming to retrieve me as we speak." He downed another shot.

"Why are you packing clothes then?" Nolan questioned him.

There was suspicious momentary pause before David answered him. "For a quick get-away, in case they betray me." He sighed and poured himself another glass. He was about to take his third shot, but he seemed to remember something and placed it on the counter untouched. "Shit, I need to find my pocket knife." He scrambled back into the kitchen. Nolan drew a small tube from his shirt pocket. He opened it and dumped a small red orb the size of a tiny marble into his palm. He quickly checked it, and then dropped it into the bourbon David left. The red orb dissolved into the drink without affecting its appearance. After swirling it a bit, Nolan poured himself a shot as well and went to David.

"David, if you're going into the heart of the lion's den, I want to do a farewell shot with you," Nolan said, handing him the spiked glass. "You're a courageous man. I just wish there was something I could do to help you."

"Thanks, Nolan," David responded gratefully. He downed the shot, and Nolan followed suit. Before their conversation could continue, there was a knock at the front door. "That must be him. Whatever you do, don't react. Pretend like you do not know what's going on." He went over to the door and opened it. There stood Falco Daniloff. "I'm ready to go," he said, picking up a briefcase sitting by the doorway.

"Excellent," Falco commended. He glanced at Nolan, then back to David. "You know our terms, correct?"

"Of course," David answered. He looked to Nolan. "I'm off, Mr. Ross. Feel free to enjoy the beach while you're here. I should be back shortly."

"Thank you, Mr. Clarke," Nolan mirrored him. "I might take you up on that offer!"

David nodded and followed Falco out of the door. When Nolan heard a vehicle in the driveway depart, he whipped out his phone and pressed a contact. "Hey, Jack, all systems go. David is heading into the cuckoo's nest."


End file.
